Scars and Stripes
by Solivore
Summary: "An eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind" Abel Cohan gets more than he bargained for when he leads a one-man crusade against the Commonwealth. (Act I: In Progress) Act I: Nick and Piper team up to stop a wave of murders before it hits Diamond City.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing." - Edmund Burke_

* * *

 _Prologue_

The sun had already found it's perch high in the sky by the time Piper Wright had made her way from Publick Occurrences to Nick Valentine's Detective Agency. To say Piper was surprised that the detective had come to her was an understatement. In all of her years working in the Commonwealth she found it rare that someone actually reached out to a reporter, usually it was the other way around. Piper wondered what the detective could want with her, especially since he was always secretive about his work. 'Client confidentiality', Nick always called it. Piper sat impatiently in the chair in his office. She peered around to see if Nick was coming. When she was confident he wasn't, she stood up and began to snoop around the synth's office. Piper was in full sleuth mode when the door knob turned behind her.

"Hope you didn't break into my office to go through my files," frowned Nick Valentine as he walked into the room.

"Of course not," shot back Piper with a look of mock-sadness, as if the mere suggestion hurt her. "Your assistant let me in," The reporter quickly added.

Nick took a seat at his desk and motioned for her sit across from him. "I'll have to remind Ellie not to do that again," Nick grumbled to himself. Pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket, he set it on the corner of his lips. "I'm assuming you want to know why you're here?" The detective pulled the file from his 'Active Investigations' section of his desk, and placed it flat on the desk. Slowly he pushed the file over to his guest.

Curiosity peaked, Piper took the seat across from Nick. Now directly under the ceiling light Piper could see the synth detective better. Nick made no effort to hide the exposed wiring, or his trademarked yellow eyes. It was probably what made him so welcome in Diamond City, even with the impending fear of the Institute that lingered over the city like a thick shadow. Piper didn't bother herself with Nick's appearance, that was old news. The reporter within her was hungry for whatever Nick had compiled in the file that sat in front of her. When she opened it she wasn't disappointed.

"Nicky," gasped Piper, moving her hand over her mouth. Nick Valentine had compiled a list of the Commonwealth's most recent, gruesome murders. Each photo looked like a massacre in their own right. The file looked very professional, similar to the way a crime scene had been documented before the bombs dropped. Some of the victims were slumped over their food, or in their beds, poor bastards never saw it coming. Other photos looked two armies converged together for one big showdown. Bullet holes riddled the walls, and enough blood spatter to make it look like a cheap thriller movie. Nick had taken the time to document when it happened, where, and tried to identify as many victims as possible. Police work was already hard, and that was before Nick was the last cop remaining in the Commonwealth. Piper started to read off the names when she realized the connection. "Are these all raiders?"

"Bingo," said Nick, lighting the cigarette that had been sitting in the corner of his mouth.

The wheel in Piper's head started to turn as she attempted to piece everything together. "Another raider gang maybe? New kids on the block?"

Nick took a long drag off his cigarette. They didn't serve any purpose, it was just a bad habit from when he was still human. Now he liked to think they help him think, or it was just something to hold onto from the old world. "Something like that," Nick finally spoke.

Piper could tell Nick was holding his cards close to his chest. The reporter knew she was being tested, Nick wanted her to come to some conclusion on her own. She wasn't mad, otherwise Nick wouldn't have needed her help. A sudden realization turned her stomach. "You think all of these are connected?"

"Right again."

There was something else the detective was holding back, Piper could feel it. She scanned the pictures again, looking for any kind of clue. Even after scanning the images again, Piper failed to see how they're connected. The weapons were different at each scene, and the way the killings were done weren't the same either. Some looked similar to an assassin, and others looked like a mercenary gang blew through. "Whoever they are, they're organized."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Nick's yellow eyes were steady on the reporter in front of him. He took off a long drag, there wasn't much left of the cigarette.

"Were these people," Piper started, but she wasn't sure if she wanted the answer to the question was about to ask. This was what Nick wanted to find on her own, this was what he was waiting for. "Tortured?" It's what connected them together despite all the differences.

Upon her realization, Nick pulled another file off his desk and slid it over to her. "Interrogated seems more like it."

"Over what?" Piper furrowed her brow in confusion and disgust. "This seems too organized for raiders."

The next file contained the juicy details that Nick had left out of the first file, confirming that it was a test. Piper suspected that it was originally one file. Nick Valentine always worked alone, Piper figured this was his way of testing for a worthy partner. The second file was by far more disturbing than the original. Most of these pictures were graphic images that depicted torture in one form or the other. This file made Piper's skin crawl.

"Some of these raider gangs were allies," Piper remarked.

"I know."

"What's the motivation?"

The synth shrugged. "That's what we're trying to figure out."

"If all the victims are raiders, how do we know who will be targeted next?"

Nick shook his head in response. "It'll be like looking for a needle in a haystack."

Piper bit her tongue for a second, chewing on her words before deciding whether or not to say it. "Maybe..."

"Maybe what?" Nick started. "Maybe we let this guy kill off the scum of the Commonwealth? Maybe we let him do it, and then go after him when he crosses the line?" The detective put no effort into trying to hide his frustration. "Because he will cross the line, it's the only truth in this world: Power corrupts people," Nick let out a shaky sigh. He was letting himself get worked up. Part of his synthetic heart was filled with guilt for going off on the reporter, he had the same thoughts in the beginning. "No one should be judge, jury and executioner, that's too much power for one man."

Piper saw his points. She opened her mouth to say that Nick had won her back over to his side when her stomach twisted into knots. "You're saying one person is responsible for all of this, carnage?" Piper put an emphasis on carnage, for a lack of a better word.

"Guess I overplayed my hand," Nick admitted. "I just got back from someone who claims they were there."

"You have a survivor?"

Nick Valentine nodded his head. "Yeah, he's saying that he leaves one behind in every scene. To warn everyone else that he's coming for them."

 _'Great, that's what the Commonwealth needed. Another boogeyman'_ , Piper thought to herself. "He's leaving a Sole Survivor at the sight of every attack? We should go see if we can piece a profile together from their accounts."

"After," agreed Nick. "He was high on jet and tied to a chair when he told me his version. Now that he's come down from it I want to see if he'll give me the same story. Maybe he'll give us something now that he's sober that'll help us catch this Ghost."

Piper stifled a laugh as she raised an eyebrow in amusement. "Please don't tell me we're giving it a name, Nick. He's not a pet."

"What? You don't like it?" Nick mused for a moment. "Spectre?"

"Stay in your lane, Nicky. I come up with the names."

Involuntarily, Nick rolled his eyes. "As long as it's better than Nicky," The synth grumbled to himself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: First off, I'd like to point out the joke for those of you who might not have gotten it. 'Ghost' is the name of my friend The Desert Dancer's character. He writes really well done Fallout stories, you should go check them out! Second, I'd like to thank you for making it through the prologue of 'Scars and Stripes'. I know it's a little short, but the chapters will be longer, I promise. Anyways, please leave a review! Solivore out!**


	2. Act 1 - Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _"Whoever fights with monsters should see to it that he does not become a monster in the process. And when you gaze long into an abyss the abyss also gazes into you" - Friedrich_ _Nietzscht_

* * *

 _Act I - All-American Nightmare_

 _Chapter I_

In life the Red Rocket was nothing more than a pit stop, one of many of it's kind. It was a waypoint in-between home and work to fuel up your vehicle, grab snacks or a cold Nuka-Cola. Now it served a much higher purpose, the Red Rocket had become to base of operations for Abel Cohan and his crusade against the Wasteland. Abel wasn't a Lone Wanderer, Red Rocket was home to three:

Abel a former soldier in the Army (back when the Army was still the Army) uses his military training to launch a one man _crusade_ against the scum of the Commonwealth.

Codsworth, his Mister Handy robot, doubled as the skeleton crew while Abel was away.

Rocket, the German shepherd, named after the truck stop Abel had found him at. Goggles sat atop his head, and a red bandana tied around his neck to let others know he wasn't feral.

Abel was fortunate enough to have found the Red Rocket mostly intact, though over two hundred years had left it picked clean. A mattress was found in the office, the small room had now become his personal quarters. The idea that someone else might have occupied the space crossed Abel's mind, but the numerous turrets placed around the property would dissuade anyone from coming back. What was once the garage had been reimagined into his workplace. Weapons adorned the walls like trophies from his conquests. What would immediately catch anyone's attention, the true centerpiece of the room was his power armor set that hung from it's chains. It wasn't completed yet, but it was still his most prized possession. Above the incomplete armor set was the American flag that used to be in his own living room. It was a subtle reminder to never forget where he came from, even if the world was different now.

"Master Abel," The Cohan families robotic butler greeted as Abel entered the Red Rocket. Codsworth followed behind his master as he immediately went for the workshop. "No sign of Master Shaun yet?" Codsworth inquired, seeing that Abel had a newly acquired .fifty caliber rifle.

"No," grumbled Abel. The old hunting rifle that Abel was using before he left was placed on the weapons rack. It had served him well, but it was time to retire it in favor of a newer, bigger rifle. The room was beginning to look more like an armory than a workshop.

"If anyone can find Master Shaun, it's you Master Abel," Codsworth beamed as much as his mechanical tone would allow.

If Abel had heard the robotic servant's words, he didn't show it. Abel placed the .fifty caliber on the workbench and pulled up a board hidden behind the workbench. The board was a complex compilation of career criminals, raiders and other scum that occupied the Commonwealth. Names of raider groups were scratched onto the map with their key members, alleged crimes and where they operated out of. Until Abel knew who killed his wife and kidnapped his son it was open season on raiders. A cross went through the names of those who Abel personally confirmed didn't have anything to do with his son's kidnapping, and "CLEAR" above their location on the map.

A shaky sigh escaped Abel's lips as he scratched out the names of his most recent conquest. It was another dead end, with an emphasis on the word 'dead'. With all the corpses laying around he was hoping that whoever took his son would get the message that they were next. Abel started to pencil in new names, there were always new names. It was funny how raiders were more willing to talk when their friends were laying dead around them.

"I took the liberty of setting up a trade route with passing merchants," said Codsworth, looking to change the subject. "This came from Diamond City," The robotic butler extended his arm, newspaper in hand.

Abel pulled away from his intelligence board long enough to take the paper. The headline was about him, again. In black bold print the headline read "Hero, or Menace?" Much to his surprise someone had managed to link together his attacks on the various raider groups. Abel figured it was only a matter of time before someone started putting the pieces together, but he had hoped he would have had Shaun back by then. The author, Piper Wright, disavowed Abel. "Over two hundred years of nuclear radiation, I didn't think a newspaper would be what survived." Abel hid his displeasure within a joke.

"May I inquire what you are going to do about it, sir?"

Abel sat down with at his weapons bench with a shrug, his new beast of a weapon laid out on the table in front of him. "Nothing," he finally added. "I don't need them to appreciate what I'm doing, I just need them to stay out of my way."

"But, sir!" Codsworth shot back. "There are going to be a lot of angry people looking for answers. Bad people."

Abel grumbled to himself. Deep down he knew what he needed to do. He would have to travel to Diamond City and somehow convince this reporter (probably the last of her kind) to stop printing about him before their outlet attracted unwanted attention. It was the right thing to do, to at least try. He just didn't like anything that took away from looking for his son.

"Someone may know of Master Shaun's whereabouts there," the robotic servant added as an extra incentive.

"Stay here," instructed Abel. "I need a new scope and ammo anyway," he grumbled under his breath.

* * *

"Can I pet your dog, Mister?" A carefree voice caused Abel to look down. Right in front of him was a small child, probably no more than the age of ten. Her coffee brown eyes were lit up with excitement, as if it was the first dog she had ever seen. It just might have been the first dog she had come across that was feral or mutated.

Abel looked between his shepherd and the little girl. It was a question he didn't really didn't know how to answer, Abel had never seen Rocket around children. Rocket looked up ahead, unaware of the cute assault he was about to receive. "I mean, probably," Abel shrugged.

"Such a good boy," the little girl spoke in a voice usually reserved for small children and animals. "And I love your little goggles!" She squealed.

"Nat!" A woman called from behind them. She rushed up to the trio. "Get away from him," scolded the new woman. She then turned to the stranger. "I'm so sorry."

Abel shrugged in responce, placing his hand on the top of Rocket's head to comfort the now alerted dog. He made the mental note that he was fine around children, but wary around adults. "It's no big deal, he's very well trained," he bluffed. Now he knew at least.

"What did I tell you about talking to strangers?" The woman bent her knee to be eye level with the smaller girl.

"Don't?"

"Good," The woman smiled and ran her fingers through her dirty hair. "Now go back inside."

Nat sighed. She seemed reluctant, but Nat didn't put up a fight or make a scene.

Abel sat by awkwardly, not sure if he should leave or not.

"My name's Piper, by the way," Piper got off her knee and extended her hand to the stranger. "I don't think I've seen you around here."

"You could say I'm new," responded Abel. He met her handshake with a firm grip. "Abel."

Piper was already analyzing the newcomer, making no effort to size him up. She was no doubt forming a profile in her mind. "Is that a vault suit?"

Surprised, Abel looked down before answering, unsure why that was relevant. "Yes, it is."

Curiosity had gotten the best of the reporter. "How did you come across one in such good condition?"

Abel was intelligent enough to understand that she was asking if he had purchased, or stolen the suit he was wearing. "They, uh, gave it to me?"

Piper arched her brow in surprise. "Who is they?"

"I'm from a vault," Abel didn't try to hide his impatient tone. He crossed his arms over his chest.

"I'm sorry," Piper backed off. "I ask a lot of questions, I forget not everyone knows I'm are reporter."

 _'What luck, the first people I run into,'_ Abel thought to himself.

"You don't think I could bother you for an interview?" A hesitant Piper asked. She didn't want to push her luck more than she already had with the stranger. "It's just we don't get a lot of vault dwellers this way."

"Sure," nodded Abel. Relief swept through his body. Maybe this was an issue that Abel could resolve, and not the vigilante. That made him feel good. "Lead the way," Abel gestured with his arms.

* * *

To his dismay Abel Cohan didn't leave Publick Occurrences alone. After his interview he had hoped to stay behind and see what kind of information they had on him. What Abel didn't know was it also doubled as Piper's house.

"Thanks again, Abel," Piper had a grin that reminded the vigilante of her younger sister when she saw Rocket for the first time. "This is really good material."

"Of course," nodded Abel. "You don't ever worry though?"

"About what?" A puzzled Piper asked.

"Doesn't this kind of work tend to land you in some hot water? Do you ever catch any kind of unwanted attention?"

Piper bit her lip, a habit she had formed to help her think. "Never thought a reporter could consider themselves a success until someone threatened their life. Me? I'm very successful." She grinned cheekily. "Though, I do have this story that's kind of different."

Abel arched his eyebrow in mock-surprise. "I did just open up to you for an hour. I think I'm owed."

The reporter checked behind her to make sure Nat wasn't within earshot. "Ok, so. There's this new player in town. We can't tell if he's an assassin, a mercenary, or just a raider looking to make a name for himself."

Abel had an interested look on his face, but deep down he was excited. Little did she know, Piper was face-to-face with the exact man she was describing. From what he could tell they knew next to nothing about him.

"Sometimes I'm worried that he might read something he doesn't like and come correct that issue," A nervous Piper touched the back of her neck. "That's how I know I should be doing this though. The people deserve to know." Abel couldn't tell if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"What about your sister though?"

Piper's eyes shot up in a defiant stare. "What?" Venom dripped from her only word.

"Your sister, Nat?" Abel tried to bury his threat under the guise of worry. "What if this psycho came looking for you? I mean, you guys do live together right?" The vigilante was bluffing. His moral code didn't allow for harm to come to innocents, especially children. The reporter didn't need to know that, though.

Guilt crashed over Piper Wright like a tidal wave. Long ago she had already accepted the fact that her life may come under threat due to her work, but was her younger sister's life worth the risk? Piper didn't need a tragedy to happen for her to understand that she would never forgive herself if something happened to Nat. Before Piper could give a response man in a faded trench coat interrupted their discussion. When he got closer, Abel realized he wasn't really a man. He was a synth.

"Who do we have here?" Nick sized up the former vault dweller.

"Just an old war horse," Abel extended his hand in offering. "Abel."

"Nick," Nick met his handshake with a firm grip. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to steal you for a bit," he turned his attention to Piper.

"Sorry," Piper forced a smile as she turned towards Abel. "Duty calls."

Abel nodded his head in response. "Of course," Abel reached his hand out and placed it on Piper's arm. "I'd like to do this again sometime."

With that the three of them went in their separate ways. Little did the reporter and detective know, they just came face-to-face with the very man they're hunting. Even worse, Abel knew.

* * *

 **Author's Note: You may have noticed I put the word 'Arc' at the top. What that means is I don't want a bunch of stories that you have to wonder which order they go in, so I'm doing one linear one. The idea for this arc is early game. Instead of the companions helping the SS, they're actually against him because they don't approve of his methods. As a result of this, somethings may not happening canonically, or they'll just be skipped. I promise this is for your sake, because who wants to read something you've already played? I'm not above reviews/criticisms, Solivore out!**


	3. Act 1 - Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Act I - All-American Nightmare_

 _Chapter II_

Piper's legs had melted into jelly by the time they neared their destination. She and Nick Valentine had walked for what seemed like forever. It had been a long while since either of them had said anything. Nick was the first one to break the silence.

"We're here," said Nick, placing his hand on Piper's shoulder to get her attention. When she turned she saw Nick pointing to the sky. Vultures and various scavenger birds circled the sky as if to mark their destination for them.

"That's promising," Piper grumbled to no one in particular. Whoever this new player was he sure left a wake of bodies in his trail wherever he went. Goosebumps freckled her skin as she thought what would happen if this carnage had made it's way over to Diamond City. Would security be enough to put this man down? She doubted it.

The birds didn't lie, a thick stench of death greeted the pair as they come up on what used to be a raider hot spot. The carnage started outside with dead sentries but shell casings and cadavers painted a trail inside the crippled building. Most of it had collapsed due to the original blasts but what didn't served as a makeshift fortress for this particular flavor of raider scum.

Piper brought the back of her gloved hand to her nostrils, but it wasn't enough.

"I don't envy you," remarked Nick. Not being human had its perks.

"Lucky you," Piper rolled her eyes as she squat next to a nearby corpse. Apparent cause of death was from gunshot wounds to the chest. The victims near the door looked like they meet their ends at the barrel of a shotgun, probably a sawn-off. There was no doubt that man in the corner died from a frag, an entire missing chunk of the wall supported that theory. An educated guess and blind toss, most likely. The casings switch to that of a .ten millimeter as they went deeper into the complex. "Nothing seems stolen here."

"Rules out motive." Nick lingered in the corners of the hallway, pipe revolver in hand in case someone survived. "Your boyfriend seems nice," He added after a long pause.

"My boyfriend?" A confused Piper shot back defensively.

"Uh, the vault dweller."

"First off, he's not my boyfriend," Piper rolled her eyes at her partner's statement. "He was just an interesting story. Secondly, really? This was where you wanted to do this?"

The detective peered into the nearest room. Sastified it was clear of hostiles, he moved on. "Was there somewhere else you wanted to do this?"

"Maybe on the three hour walk here, that may I remind you we were mostly silent for? Or, on the three hour walk back?"

Nick's response was a shrug of his shoulders. "Are you going to see him again?"

It was Piper's turn to shrug. "I don't know. He seemed nice."

"But?"

"He seems like he's trying too hard."

Nick scoffed in response. "I thought the problem was people in the Commonwealth didn't try hard enough."

"These people have been dead two, maybe three days," said Piper, looking to change the subject. "It looks like the Silver Shroud blew through here."

What sounded like movement in the last room halted their conversation. Instinctively, the pair held their pistols out in front of them and started to creep towards the sound. Nick Valentine was the first to enter the room, planning on using his synthetic body as a shield for the more vulnerable Piper. He immediately lowered his revolver upon entering the room. The threat wasn't a threat, not anymore at least. Slumped up against the wall was a raider on his last leg. A .ten millimeter bullet wound in either knee prevented him from fleeing.

"Thought you were him," coughed the raider. He was a younger man, probably not much older than Piper. There was nothing significant about this raider, dirty, unkempt and rather wild looking. Really a cookie cutter mold for dirty raiders, save for the dying part. His face was flush with sweat. Mangy hair clung to the sides of his face. He looked pale from the loss of blood. "Coming back to finish me off. Was gonna try to hide, but I can't," he gestured to his wounds.

"Do you know who did this to you?" Asked Nick, revolver still in hand.

"No. Wore some kind of gas mask, with a hood."

Piper shifted uncomfortably. All she wanted to was get her story and leave. "Why didn't he kill you?"

If the raider had heard the question he didn't show it. "Why are you guys after him? He kill someone you love?"

"I believe the lady asked you question," Nick waved the revolver into view of the raider.

"Because I told him what he wanted to hear."

Piper, now in full investigator mode, continued with her questions. "What was that?"

"Man," sighed the raider in annoyance. "Can't one of you get me a stimpack?"

The detective shook his head in response, saying what they all were thinking. "A stimpack isn't going to save you. It's too late."

"Then some jet," counteroffered the dying raider. Even in his dying moments he wasn't foolish enough to think that jet would save his life, but it could dull the pain. "Gas mask rounded up all of our jet and destroyed it, but I keep a hidden stash in my room."

Nick and Piper looked between each other. Words didn't have to be spoken, they could read each other's minds. Drug trade was another possible motive they could scratch off. They also both knew that he was beyond saving. It was honestly a miracle he lived this long to tell the crime solving duo his tale. He had been in pain for days, giving him something to dull the pain was the humane thing to do, other than just putting him out of his misery outright. Piper head into the direction of the room that the raider pointed to.

"You're going to have to answer our questions before you get the jet," demanded Nick. It wasn't a negotiation.

"Come on, man, it's my jet!" He didn't try to hide his frustration.

"I can wait," Nick pulled up a chair and set it down just out of reach of the raider. After lighting up a cigarette, Nick sat in the seat looking down on the raider. "Can you?"

The raider made a range of noises from grunting to groaning, but ultimately gave up. "Jet is only our front. We deal, dealt" corrected the raider, as if all of his friends laying dead around him wasn't reminder enough. "In trafficking. We sold people, no questions asked."

Nick wrinkled his nose in disgust, but he didn't interrupt.

"Girls, mostly. Doesn't matter what age. Someones always buying," he looked beyond where Piper had went, desperately awaiting for her return. "Your friend there would have made a nice-"

The detectives leg shot out from under the chair quick as viper, his foot connecting with the raider's. A jolt of pain ran up his leg. "Focus," demanded Nick in a firm voice.

"He found me trying to hide. Said he only wanted to ask me questions."

Piper had come back in the room, the jet in hand. She waited for the raider to finish his story.

"He put one in my kneecap right away, so that I knew he was serious. He wanted to know where our kept them."

"Did you tell him?" Asked Nick.

The raider's only nod was a nod of his head.

"Did he keep them?" Asked Piper.

"No," admitted the raider. "Said he was going to take them somewhere safe, wouldn't tell me where though."

Again, Nick and Piper exchanged looks and they both had the same thought on their mind: They were back to square one and with a three day headstart he could be anywhere.

"Probably a good idea," mumbled Nick to himself. This way he couldn't tell his friends where they went, if there were only left.

"Can I have my jet now?" The look of desperation was almost too much for Piper. She placed on the floor, kicking it over to him. Even in his weakest moments Piper wanted to be nowhere near a raider. The jet stopped just short of his foot.

"What are we going to do now?" asked Nick, turning away from the raider as he crawled towards the drug on the floor.

"Who do you know that has a large arsenal of firepower for sale, and knows what's going on in the Commonwealth?"

"Hancock?" Grumbled Nick, not happy with the suggestion.

"Exactly," sighed Piper. With their destination of Goodneighbor in mind they moved on, even if they didn't like it.

* * *

The day was almost over by the time Abel Cohan had arrived in Sanctuary Hills, a line of former slaves in tow. It looked like an artist with a gigantic brush painted the sky a melancholy shade of orange, a sunset Nora would have appreciated. It only seemed like yesterday that Abel would sit on the hood of his car with his beloved in his arms, and just watch the sun set on the city they loved so much. Now he didn't even recognize what two hundred years (and a nuclear blast here and there) did to it. Abel envied how Nora never had to see this, she was spared the weight of having scouring a wasteland for their baby boy.

"Halt," barked the gate guard, raising his pipe machine gun.

"It's ok," said a familiar voice from behind him. The voice belonged to their current leader, Preston Garvey. "Let them in."

The girls looked amongst themselves, fear and doubt plagued their minds. They weren't sure what the future held for them, but they were sure the group was about to find out.

"Abel," welcomed Preston. He had gone out to the bridge to personally welcome the group.

Abel Cohan removed his green combat gas mask with the hood. "Preston," he greeted back, relieved to finally be breathing air without a filter.

"What do we have here?" Preston peered behind Abel at the meek and shy group.

"Just liberated a group of slaves. I was kinda hoping that you could stay here while they figured out where they doing next," asked Abel, but it sounded more like a statement than a question, like he was telling Preston that they were going to stay there.

"They still have their collars on," remarked the gate guard. He was less enthusiastic about their situation than their leader. "Is anyone going to come looking for them?"

"I didn't leave anyone, if that's what you're asking," said Abel coldly, extending his hand out. In his hand was the detenator.

"Get that to Sturges," instructed Preston. "Follow him ladies, you'll be ok now," the leader of the Minute Men offered a sincere smile as they passed. "You're safe here."

Preston was distracted with the now liberated slaves, he used the opportunity to slip away to go visit his old house. He didn't go unnoticed though.

"This was something the Minute Men could have assisted you with," remarked Preston, who had to jog to catch up to Abel.

"It really wasn't," Abel didn't slow his pace. "We've already talked about this. They're untrained, undisciplined. They'd only get in my way."

"So show us," Preston matched his stride to Abel's. "Teach us what we don't know."

Abel stopped just in front of his old house. It would need some work, it was still mostly intact. "I can't be the General, not right now."

"We haven't touched it," Preston gestured to the house. "Per your instructions."

"I just want to be alone for a minute," Abel closed the door behind him, not waiting for a response. Broken glass crunched under his feet as he walked through his abode. He still remembered what it looked like from when it was actually his house. Now it was just a reminder that things weren't the same anymore.

Somehow Abel had found himself in what was Shaun's old room. He was hovering over his crib, peering down inside of it. A flashback flooded into his mind before Abel had a chance to reject it. And just like that it was two hundred years ago and they were happy. Abel and Nora were standing over their newborn son in his crib, watching him sleep. Abel remembered looking over at Nora who was finally discharged from the hospital. No make up, no hair done, it was the real her. She was more beautiful in that moment than Abel could ever remember. And now she was gone. Abel was alone in a shattered home, a teddy bear where Shaun was in the memory. He must have dropped it when they ran for the vault.

"They want me to be the leader, a general," Abel spoke to the teddy bear as if it were listening. His hands gripped the crib until his knuckles turned white. "But I can't. Not yet. They'll slow me down, and it's harder to track one man than an entire group." Abel reached inside the crib and pulled out the plush bear, which was surprisingly in good condition. "I'll find you Shaun, I promise. And when I do I'll give you this."

* * *

 **Author's Note: This is actually kind of how I played the game the first time. I couldn't find a cool helmet so I used the green combat gas mask, so I thought I'd carry it over to the fic. I didn't join the MM right away because I at first thought it was going to progress the story, and then I found it it's just relentless "another settlement needs your help". That didn't start for me until I almost finished the game. Just a little insight into my Fallout 4 experience haha. Solivore out!**


	4. Act 1 - Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Act I - All-American Nightmare_

 _Chapter III_

It was fight night in the Combat Zone and every man, woman and raider in the area knew about it. Incoherent and slurred shouts filled the room as the two fighters went to their respective corners of the cage.

"To our left is the lovely Cait," Tommy played at referee in the middle of the cage. "Twenty-six, hundred-twenty pounds of pure Irish anger. Not to mention our current resident-champion!" The ghoul's voice carried throughout the room, evident to newcomers that he had been doing this for a while. "Rocking the buzz cut to our right is our mysterious newcomer, Abel Cohan!"

Ignoring the jeers and boos that his name generated in the crowd, Abel continued to wrap his knuckles. By now it had just become muscle memory. He had lost count of how many fights he had been in, it was something that other people used to document for him. On top of clocking in an absurd amount of time into the Great War, Abel was also an accomplished fighter. Fighting was in his genes.

Tommy continued on, unphased by their negativity to the new fighter. He had been doing it long enough to know to work a crowd. "Twenty-four, and a hundred-and-seventy pounds, but will the weight advantage be enough to take down the house champion?"

Cait spit on the ground, showcasing her displeasure. She had taken down bigger men, and she was ready to do it again. "As they say in New Vegas, the house always wins!" The crowd loved confident Cait.

"Betting time is almost over, the fight will be begin shortly," Tommy reminded the crowd to actually place bets. It was the Combat Zones main source of revenue.

The bets were placed, and the fighters were ready. Most played it safe and put their caps on the house champion. What Cait lacked physically she made up for with chems. A cocktail of different chems allowed her access more of her latent muscles, and increased her pain tolerance for a short amount of time.

Tommy pulled the two fighters to the middle of the cage. "This is the Combat Zone, do I need to remind you of our reputation is here?" It was a rhetorical question, he didn't wait for their replies. "This is a no holds barred match, the dirtier the better. I don't care if you guys kill each other in there, just make it look good for the crowd." The ghoul announcer looked between the two Irish fighters. The tension in the air was so thick someone could have cut it with their combat knife. "Alright," said Tommy as he stepped back out of their way. "Fight!"

The crowd of intoxicated raiders blew up into a roar as Cait came out of the gate strong. She started with quick jabs, testing the waters with her new opponent.

As a result Abel found these easy to evade. To Abel, a trained fighter, her form looked weak and sloppy. It appeared as if Cait was emulating a home brewed version of boxing. He saw the chinks in her armor, the sides she left exposed, how she left her chin exposed to a good uppercut. Her face was only partially protected by her bandage clad hands. He was genuinely unsure if this was a direct result from a lack of any kind of formal training, or if she was trying to lull him into a false sense of security. She was the house champion for a reason though, Abel could only assume she relied on power hits.

Cait kept up on her flurry of punches. They were easily dodged, deflected or Abel willingly took the shots to the less important areas to compensate for more protection in the face and chest. Her punches seemed pulled, like she was holding back still. When Abel's heels touched the back wall he figured out why. Cait wasn't trying to hurt him, not really. She was pushing him back, cornering him in the cage. There two things Cait learned growing up a post-nuclear wasteland; Men will always think she wants to sleep with them, and that they will always believe themselves to be stronger. Cait found a way to use this to her advantage.

Weak flurry shots turned into powerful rib shots as soon as Abel had his back against the corner. In an attempt to get away Abel used his weight to push her back, but she expected that. Both of her hands pushed Abel back so that he was against the wall again, and used the opportunity to connect a hook with his temple. The affects were immediate.

His legs buckled under his weight briefly. This might have been enough to put down the other men in the Combat Zone, but Abel Cohan wasn't a normal man. His legs sprang up as if he had springs where his bones should be. A well placed uppercut sent the combatant stumbling back. Surprise over took Cait's face briefly, but it was immediately replaced by excitement. They were only dipping their toes in the water, seeing what the other one was capable of, and now that they knew the real fight could begin. And did Cait love a real fight.

Abel made the motion with his hands that said "come at me," she happily obliged. With her right fist ready, her power hand, she aimed directly at his chest. This would have been a guard break if he had blocked, and it may even stopped his heart if he didn't. Neither happened. In a lightning fast movement Abel ducked under the punch, and to the right. The vigilante didn't come back up, instead giving a solid one-two to her abdomen and connecting a third hook to her ribs. Her leather bodice did little against the onslaught of attacks.

Cait stumbled to the side, a mix of adrenaline and chems kept her from really feeling the full affect. A wild look over took Cait's emerald green eyes. It was the look of someone who thoroughly enjoyed a good fight, a look Abel related to. Cait came back twice as hard as before. She started swinging wildly, too fast to predict. Abel's sides got caught in a storm of punches that he couldn't do much about. He saw his opening when she tried to power swing again, ducking under her fist to the left. Though, this was exactly what the femme fatale wanted. She brought her knee up to connect with the other Irish fighter's face, but was stopped short. Abel wrapped his arms around her leg, and pushed forward with all of his weight so that he landed on top of her.

The kick had lifted an imaginary weight off Abel's shoulder that he thought restricted them to boxing, and opened the door to a more mixed martial arts approach. It was now Abel's turn to shower his opponent in a shower of punches. He started low, punching at her ribs to get her to move her hands away from her face. Cait tried her best to block her sides with her arms, but it did little against such a seasoned fighter. The chems and adrenaline burned out of her system at an alarmingly fast rate. All the pain rushed back at once, colliding into her body like a tidal wave.

Cait's arms moved against her will, and her own best interest, and shot down to her sides to protect her potentially cracked ribs. Seeing the opportunity to end the fight Abel's dominant fist shot forward like a rocket aimed directly at Cait's nose, and bounced her head off the hard floor.

The crowd was silent as Abel pulled himself off the beaten fighter. In a normal situation he would have kept swinging in a blind rage until the referee pulled him off, but this didn't look like the kind of place that stopped fighters from putting on a really good show. He didn't come here to kill anyone, and he didn't want to be shot in the cage for breaking their best toy. A couple weeks of rest and Cait could be back on her feet fighting again. Everyone wins.

Loss wasn't something Cait took well. In a blind daze she stumbled to her feet. Every muscle ached, and her body told her stay down. It was two words she couldn't obey, not if she wanted to live to see another day. The Combat Zone wasn't known for it's generosity towards those who lost fights. Her world spun out of control, but she had to this. Once again she found herself in her fighting stance, but this time she had an edge. Brass knuckles that were tucked away in her pocket now covered either of her hands. The crowd began to cheer again, giving away her element of surprise.

"Don't," warned Abel, also getting back into his fighting stance.

"I'm sorry," Cait said weakly as she threw a lazy punch directed at Abel's jaw. Everyone has glass jaw when your fists are covered in brass.

The crowd, Tommy included, didn't believe what they saw. Abel ducked backwards and caught her punch by the wrist. Unwilling to let Cait get any sort of upper hand again, he swept for the legs and held firm to her wrist. Abel waited a solid moment, waiting for someone, anyone to stop him. When they didn't it appeared he did it as dramatic affect. "Me too," mouthed Abel just before he used the weight of his body to bend Cait's arm in a direction it wasn't meant to go. An audible snap hushed the crowd again.

There laid their hero, broken and bloody. Cait could do nothing as she stared at the lights in the ceiling. She figured she would lose one day. Today was that day. The Irish fighter hadn't made it quiet that she would have rather die in the ring, a final blaze of glory, than behind the Combat Zone with a single bullet dug into her skull. Her only hope was that Tommy would tell everyone she died doing what she loved, fighting. A legacy was all she had now.

Abel stepped out of the ring, a look that dared someone to get in his face. Nobody met his challenge.

"There we have it," announced Tommy. "Our new champion, Abel! The All-American Nightmare!" He tried his best to work the crowd before they rioted. A lot of raiders were going to be out a lot of money. They put their caps on good faith on Cait. A mistake they won't make twice. Tommy pulled Abel to the side by his arm so that they were out of view. "You need to get out of here," warned the ghoul announcer in his low raspy voice. "You cost a lot of bad people a lot of caps."

"I don't care about that," said Abel, shrugging off his grip. "Just get my caps, off brand Bruce Buffer."

"As soon as I do you have to get out of here, I don't want a riot in my lobby." Tommy ignored the insult.

The fighter followed the ghoul to the safe that contained all of the bids.

"I have to ask you a favor," Tommy announced now that they were alone. An annoyed sigh was Abel's only response. "Take Cait with you."

Abel brushed his bloodied hand through his sweat soaked copper tinted buzz cut. He thought the man before him was joking, but you can't fake that look of desperation in his eyes. "I'm supposed to just take in everyone I beat in a fight now?" He finally managed. He still wasn't completely over the whole brass knuckles ordeal.

"It's not like that. Normally I don't care, but they lost a lot of money." Tommy kept checking the doorway to make sure they were alone. "They're going to want to make their money back a different way, if you catch my drift."

The anger that had only recently subsided in his Irish veins was now bubbling under his skin. He came here undercover to see if the Combat Zone was something that had to be shut down. It was. Little did they know they would be expecting the vigilante soon.

"Look, I'll give you her contract, I'll pay you for it," Tommy pleaded.

Another annoyed grumble. "Fine."

Tommy pushed his winnings with a little extra into Abel's chest. "Just go around back, I'll have her meet you there."

A reluctant Abel pushed his way through the crowd without bringing attention to himself. He grabbed MacCready who was waiting in the lobby for him. At the time he was currently enthralled by the cages with raiders in them. He was wondering what you had to do for your own kind to turn on you and put you on display in such a way when his employer grabbed him by the arm and pulled him outside.

"Is Gas-Mask Man going to be making an appearance here?" Asked MacCready when they were free outside.

"Oh yeah."

* * *

Goodneighbor had a very misleading name. It was the kind of settlement that would pick your wallet straight from your pocket when you weren't paying attention and then help you look for it. Goodneighbor was the kind of settlement that would shower you in piss and not even have the courtesy to call it rain. It was a vile, disgusting place and that was on a good day. On a bad day they would just rob you, beat you, and leave you for dead in the gutter like trash. It wasn't the kind of place Nick Valentine and Piper Wright liked to frequent. Beforehand they agreed to only stay long enough to ask Hancock questions and then they would go home.

The mayor of Goodneighbor had actually agreed to meet them, a surprise to the pair of investigators.

"Make it quick," instructed Hancock in a flat tone. "I have town to run."

"Thank you for meeting with us," Piper went first.

Hancock rolled his eyes in response. "Don't try and butter me up. Just get to the point."

Per instructed, Nick cut straight to the point. "The lady and I would like to know if you sold weapons to a man in an assault gas mask?"

Hancock scoffed. He felt like he was being screwed with. "I sell a lot of weapons to a lot of people, what's the point?"

Nick and Piper couldn't tell if that was affirmation. So Nick pressed on. "He's been using the weapons he purchased to hurt people," Nick tried to let that sink in for a moment. The synth didn't get the intended responce from the ghoul mayor.

"Weapons hurt people, that's what they're made for."

Piper's stomach twisted in disgust. Nick conviently left out the part that it was bad people being targeted, but to Nick Valentine, a former cop, a life was still a life. Hancock didn't know that fact, and yet he still seemed like he didn't care. "You don't care that their blood is on your hands?"

Hancock waited a second to reply, hoping that they were going to bust out laughing. When they didn't he realized they weren't messing with him, they were being serious. "Let me answer your question with another question, do you think if I cared I would sell weapons?"

Nick and Piper exchanged glances. It didn't have to be said they thought that this was a waste of a trip, but deep down they probably knew that before coming in.

"Listen up sweetheart," Hancock leaned forward in his chair. "Even if I did do what you think I did I don't kiss and tell, that's just bad business." A smirk graced his radiation chapped lips. "Just in case you were wondering."

Hancock's guards didn't bother hiding their amusement.

A sudden wave of discomfort moved through her body as Piper shifted in her chair.

Hancock continued with his tirade, addressing both of them. "You're referring to the purge, right? From what I hear he's doing God's work. I wish I was apart of that."

Nick shook his head, not attempting to hide his differences with Hancock's statement. "Aren't you worried he'll blown into town?"

"Literally," added Piper. "This place seems like it won't stay under his radar for long."

Casually, Hancock shrugged. "And if he does? I'd welcome it. This place is scum, I wouldn't have to be constantly worried about being stabbed in the back."

Unanimously the two came to the silent agreement that the ghoul mayor must be crazy. They didn't voice their opinions on the matter.

"Hell, he could have my job if he wanted it."

Nick, clearly angered and feeling like he had wasted his time, stood up. "Thank you for your time," said Nick in his cop voice, what he usually said when he wasted his time with a potential lead.

"Girl" Hancock called to Piper as the synth stomped off. Reluctantly, Piper obliged. "He's killing by the hundreds. Don't think there's anything you, that tinker toy, or even me can do about that."

A confused Piper furrowed her brow. She felt like she was getting mixed messages. "What're you trying to say?"

"Don't get caught up in something you can't stop. You don't stand in front of a tornado in hopes of stopping it. You get out of the way and rebuild when it's over."

Oddly enough, the words hit home with the reporter. A nod was her only response before running to catch up with her angered partner.

* * *

A week had gone by since Abel's upsetting victory over the then-champion, Cait. Tommy has done everything short of shooting at the crowd himself to prevent them from rioting, and looting the place. The Combat Zones' cap revenue took a hit when they lost their prized fighter, and with it their reputation. Tommy managed to wrangle in fresh talent but none of them could replace the legend that was Cait.

Fight night came, and it was more like cock-fighting in the days of old. Various raider groups brought in their pet fighters via slave collars looking for the Combat Zone to buy their contracts. Their dreams of quick caps died when an armored boot kicked in the front door, literally. The old door flew off the hinges, bringing the attention to everyone up front. Out of the light stepped in a man wearing T-fourty-five power armor, a minigun in hand.

"Power armor fights are Tuesday nights, asshole," yelled someone from the back.

"For the crimes of slavery, and human trafficking how do you plead?" The power armored man asked his in the monotone voice.

The raider looked at each other, attempting to confirm if this was some of joke or not. When no one could validate it they reached for their weapons.

"Someone get this Brotherhood wannabe looking motherfucker out of here," said an angry raider leader.

The minigun started to whirl to life. "I find you guilty of these crimes, and the punishment is death." Shell casings rained down on the ground as wasteland justice was being dispensed from the tri-barreled minigun. The .five millimeter rounds easily tore through nearby enemies, shredding their bodies to pieces. The chaos that the minigun created made it easier to pick off targets. Pipe rounds bounced off the operator, doing virtually no damage. Some raiders futility attempted to hide while others made a break for the exit. Several grenades tossed tactically around the room rooted out anyone who thought they could skip their righteous judgement.

Sounds of well-placed gunshots just beyond the broken doorway followed by the sounds of bodies dropping signified that the runners weren't successful either. In the matter of minutes almost everyone was dead in the Combat Zone save for a select few. The slaves huddled into the cage, they remained unscathed. Even though they were in plain view the operator walked by them as if he didn't see them.

"Shit, shit, shit," muttered Tommy under his breath like a mantra. He found it was hard to load his pipe pistol when he was literally shaking with fear. Not that it would do much against T-fourty-five power armor. A locked door was the only thing that separated the operator from Tommy Lonegan. It proved no match against a set of power armor.

"Thomas Lonegan," said the operator as the rest of the door came crumbling down around him.

A reluctant Tommy had come out from his hiding place behind his desk. There was no point in hiding anymore. "Y-yes?" He asked shakily.

"Find a new business venture," the monotone voice commanded. "One that doesn't involve slaves."

A heavy weight had been lifted off Tommy's shoulders when the man in power armor started to turn away from him. Why was spared was unknown, but he didn't want to bring attention to himself from that man ever again.

"Or next time you won't be so lucky."

Tommy collapsed behind his desk with a huge sigh of relief. He was going to need a new business plan, and a change of pants.

Torn between staying and risk being ripped apart by a minigun, or taking their chances with a sniper the slaves were frozen in fear. The operator was almost to the front door when a voice behind him got his attention.

"What are you going to do about the raider's in the cages?" A slave asked. The others pushed him, and silently cursed under their breathes for bringing attention back to them.

He left the raider-slaves alive because they were defenseless, even though they were still scum. "Let them starve," he finally responded. "Your call," he offered just before stepping back into the Commonwealth. Dead bodies littered the outside like twisted raider decorations. Most of them didn't make it five feet away from the door before they meet their end via sniper.

The helmet to the power armor came off, revealing Abel Cohan's face to the world. MacCready took this as a sign to come down from his perch, rifle in hand.

"Where to now, boss?" MacCready slung the rifle over his shoulder.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I know it kind of jumps around there at the end, but that was because this was a way longer scene and I was trying to scale it back so that it didn't drag on. Contrary to what this chapter might seem, I do actually like Cait. I promised longer chapters, and I think I delivered. I know the MacCready thing is kind of sudden. It's meant to be a surprise that he doesn't truly work alone. I hope you were surprised haha. Til next time, Solivore out!**


	5. Act 1 - Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

* * *

 _Act I - All-American Nightmare_

 _Chapter IV_

Cait awoke covered in a cold sweat. She wasn't sure if it was a nightmare awoke her, or the voices coming from outside her window. Strands of red hair were plastered to the sides of her head by sweat. Her clothes clung to her body like a second skin. Pain surged through her body as she attempted to sit up. To her surprise her arm was in a sling. Memories flood into her mind, and suddenly she was back in the Combat Zone. Broken, bloody and on her last leg. She attempted to take the fight back from Abel Cohan, but he snapped her arm as punishment for her dirty fighting. Cait remained on the cot, staring at the ceiling while she wallowed in her own self-pity and listened to the voices outside.

"You do realize having them call me 'General' doesn't make me a general," Abel sighed in visible annoyance.

"I know," confirmed Preston. "But it gives them hope."

"How has she been?" It was Abel's attempt to change that subject. It worked, for now.

"In and out all week," reported Preston. "What did you say happened to her again?"

Abel turned away from Preston. "I didn't," with that Abel closed the door behind him. The audible sound of the door locking behind him kept Preston from badgering him for the time being.

"Morning," greeted MacCready from the couch. His rifle was displayed on the table, disassembled at the moment. He was cleaning it, preventing it from jamming in the field. "General," said MacCready with a mischievious grin.

Abel held his hand up in protest. "Don't start, please," it was too early in the morning to be dealing with everyone's antics.

Before either of them could respond MacCready leapt to his feet, pulling his pistol from it's holster. Abel turned around to see a wounded Cait lingering in the hallway. Trying to diffuse the situation, Abel brought up his hand to MacCready, letting him know to stand down.

"Where am I?" Cait found her lips chapped, and her throat hoarse.

"Sanctuary Hills," offered MacCready, holstering his firearm.

Her head swirled with questions. She had so many questions, but Cait didn't know which ones to ask first.

"Did...Did you buy me?" A defeated Cait averted her eyes to the floor.

"Yeah," Abel didn't beat around the bush. In situations like this he found honesty was the best answer. "Yes I did."

In that moment Cait realized she was at the mercy of the two men in front of her, and it was a well-known fact that mercy was a rare commodity in the Commonwealth. At her best, even with all of her advantages she couldn't defeat Abel Cohan. Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, but she did the best not to show it. "What are you going to do with me, Master?" A broken Cait asked. She was like a computer, reverting back to an old saved file. Cait wasn't obvlious to the fact that she was momentarily handicapped. She was going to have to play him instead, and escape when they weren't looking.

"Uhm, nothing?" A confused Abel responded.

"What?" An equally confused Cait asked.

Abel pointed to the door. "There's the door, you're free to go."

"Are you toying with me?" The Irish woman asked, annoyance as thick as her accent. "Is this how you get off?"

Abel turned to MacCready for support but he had none to offer. Cait continued.

"Who buys a slave just to let them free?"

MacCready saw his opportunity to help, and jumped in. "Technically he didn't buy you, you were given to him."

Even Abel could recognize somehow that was worse. Before he could chide MacCready for not helping Cait's sorrow turned to anger.

"That bastard just gave me away?! I'm not even worth the dirt beneath our feet?" Cait could feel the anger radiating off her skin. After all the money she made for the Combat Zone she wasn't even worth some kind of payment? She silently promised to ring his melted neck if they ever crossed paths.

"I don't believe in slavery," explained Abel. "You're free to go."

Somehow this didn't dissipate the redhead's anger, either. "Well aren't you special?" She mocked. "You're just going to kick a lass out on her ass when her arm is broken?"

There were no words in the English language to explain how confused Abel Cohan was. First he was pretty sure that she thought he was going to take advantage her, and now she was mad that she was free to go.

"You know what," Abel started towards the door. "I have somewhere to be. You can stay here until your arms healed, or you can be gone before I get back. I don't care," The door slammed behind the copper-haired man. An awkward MacCready wasn't far behind.

"You have a play?" MacCready ran to catch up with Abel.

Abel nodded, happy to be away from his own house for the moment. "I've got an in with Piper Wright, I just have to gain Valentine's trust now."

* * *

Her freshly brewed hot coffee fell to the floor, shattering to pieces upon impact. Piper Wright had just come face-to-face with who the raiders were calling "Gas Mask Man", in her own home. She almost didn't see the figure when she initially walked into her own bedroom, but he was unmistakable even in the low light of the night.

"Don't," warned the man behind the gas mask. His threat was vague, it could translate to anything. Don't run, don't scream, don't do anything. The moonlight shimmied it's way in-between the grime on the windows, it reflected well off of the firearm in his hand. Now that her eyes adjusted to the low light she could make out more of his attire. A green gas mask masked his identity. Pre-War army fatigues fit to his body under a thick combat chest plate. Matching pauldrons adorned either shoulder.

This was the very fear Piper had that almost made her not write the intial article. It was a sick nightmare that sprang to life in her own bedroom. She gulped, awaiting for her command.

A motion with the gun meant he wanted her to take the seat at her desk, the one she sat at when she wrote all those articles about him. Was he going to kill her here? Was this some kind of perverted irony, a joke that she couldn't understand because she was too close to the situation?

Sitting on command made Piper feel like a trained dog, but she did it none-the-less. She awaited her next orders with a heavy heart. He was placed behind her, she couldn't see what he was up to.

"Take your gun from your coat," instructed the home invader. He spoke slow so that there wouldn't be any miscommunication. "Slowly, place it on the desk."

Only moments after doing what she was told a soft knock rapped at her door. The elder Wright could feel her heart being pulled into her stomach, anything but that. She would do anything to have her younger sister spared this situation.

"Send her away," Gas Mask instructed in a low, but firm tone. What she could only assume was a barrel of a gun was placed against her spine for extra incentive. He was so close now she could smell the harsh smell of his cheap cologne infused with the heavy scent of gunpowder.

Even with a barrel tapped against her spine Piper managed to find relief. Anything was better than having her younger sister punished for her misdeeds.

The doorknob rattled slowly, but it echoed like thunder in the dark room. Much to her delight, the door was locked. "I heard a noise," the younger Wright finally spoke.

"I'm... Ok," Piper fought back tears. "I just dropped my coffee. Go back to bed, hun." She prayed to God, the Heavens, even to Atom that Nat wasn't old enough to understand the pain in her voice.

A few moments of silence stretched into infinity. "I'll go brew another pot," offered the younger sister. Sounds of footsteps moved away from door told them that they were alone again. Perfect timing, Piper couldn't hold back her tears anymore. She sobbed silently in front of her type writer.

"You need to stop writing about me. You're going to attract unwanted attention."

From where Piper was sitting it looked like that ship had sailed already.

"I'm not going to warn you again," The barrel retreated away from it's resting spot between Piper's shoulder blades.

"I already distributed tomorrow's paper," admitted a reluctant Piper. She almost didn't say anything but she didn't want to come back home the next day and to find him in their home again.

Silence filled the air again, and it was maddening for the reporter. Her head swam with all of possible outcomes. Was he going to be mad? Had she blown the one chance he had given her? Was he lining up the shot behind her?

"I'd go collect them if I were you," was all he said. The next sound was the familiar sound of her door unlocking.

Piper steeled her self for what was about to come next. If she had the time she would have downed some liquid courage first, but the fact of the matter was there wasn't enough time. In one quick effort Piper lunged for her gun, and spun. By the time the barrel was facing the door the home invader was already gone. She wasn't spooked enough to fire off a warning shot, there was a likely chance she could shoot her sister through the wooden door.

The sun would be up in a few hours, and she didn't feel safe in her own home anymore. Piper grabbed her younger sister and fled to the only person's house in Diamond City who she was sure wasn't the vigilante.

* * *

Hours had gone by since the breaking and entering of her home. In the middle of the night Piper Wright, with her younger sister, fled to Nick Valentine's Detective Agency. A surprised Ellie Perkins had let her in, but the detective in question was nowhere to be seen. A confused Nat had fallen asleep on the couch waiting for him to come home while Ellie and Piper recounted the incident over numerous pots of coffee. Eventually Ellie came down from her caffeine high and passed out as well, leaving a frantic Piper alone with her thoughts.

 _'What does a synth do in the middle of the night?'_ Piper continuously asked herself, each time ending with the conclusion that the vigilante must have gotten to him first. Though, he let Piper and Nat go. Would Nick be as lucky? Would Nick fight back?

Fear was a hell of a drug. It sowed paranoia in the deepest parts of her mind. Pretty soon every man in Diamond City had the potential to be the vigilante. Anyone of her neighbors that she saw daily could be the spree-killer she had been writing about.

The lock to the front door started to turn, pulling Piper back to reality. Piper wanted to hide, to get the drop on whoever was coming into the room in the event it was the vigilante coming to correct the mistake of letting them live, but it left the two sleeping girls in view. There wasn't enough time to wake them, either. So instead Piper put her body in-between the girls and the door and welcomed whoever was coming in with the sight of her muzzle.

Nick Valentine opened the door to find himself staring down the barrel of .ten millimeter. "Woah," Nick held his hands up in defense.

Piper shouldn't have been as surprised as she was, his name was on the front of the building after all. A long stressful night left her nerves fried. A heavy gasp escaped her lips, realizing who it was she holstered the gun.

"What in Sam's Hell has gotten into you?" Nick asked, almost offended-like.

"He was here," Piper started to talk fast. To the others she seemed delirious. "Not here. In my house. He came in my house. I saw him Nick! Jesus Nicky, he was in my house!"

"Slow down," The synth instructed. "Who was in your house?"

Piper tried taking a deep breath to calm herself. It didn't help. The sight of Abel Cohan's face behind the detective didn't help either.

"You!" Piper called out. The little adrenaline left in her body started to surge all at once through her veins upon sight.

Abel pointed to himself, dumbfound. "Me?" He asked in a puzzled voice.

The scene that played out in Nick's living room had woken up Ellie, and threatened to wake up Nat if it continued to go on the way it did. This was of little consequence to Piper. She stomped past Nick, practically pushing him out of the way to come face-to-face with Abel. "You're the vigilante, I know it must be you." With the help of her new freak strength, Piper put either hand on the collar of Abel's vault suit and pushed against the nearby wall.

"I'm not trying to kink shame you or anything, but this is really bad foreplay," Abel joked nervously. The reporter currently throttling him was right, Abel was the vigilante in question but she came to the conclusion the wrong way.

Even with his lack of gathered intelligence on the particular situation, Nick appeared by his friends side like a voice of reason. "I don't know what's going on, but this isn't what you think it is."

Piper pushed the words of her friend to the back of her mind. She didn't believe what Nick was saying, Piper didn't want to believe it. If Nick was right, anyone in Diamond City who wasn't in that room could be the guy who broke into her house. "It's him, I can't believe I didn't see it before."

Abel remained silent, waiting to see how the situation played out.

"He's been with me since yesterday," Nick finally offered.

Piper inhaled as her final test, the one last thing to guarantee that he wasn't who she thought he was. The overpowering scent of gunpowder was evident like before, but the lack of knock-off cologne made her realize it really wasn't him.

"Again, not kink-"

"Shut up," Nick and Piper barked in unison.

"Ok," he grumbled, but his face said 'wow rude'.

Nick could see the conflict on her face. She wanted him to be the vigilante really bad. It didn't need to be true, she just wanted the fear to go away. Putting a face to her fears, reminding her that whoever this killing machine was, he was only a man.

"He's been with me since yesterday morning," Nick clarified. Any doubts of Abel being the vigilante had dissipated. Abel's name wasn't high on the list, but being a newcomer in town only shortly after this crusade started was suspicious. "Skinny Malone got the drop on me in the vault. I don't know if I would have made it out with him." What Nick wasn't admitting was this only increased Abel's of being the vigilante chances in his mind. The way Abel tore through the bad guys to help Nick reminded him of a one-man army. Since it was no longer the working theory, Nick kept it to himself, a secret meant for the detective alone.

Tears welled in the corners of Piper's eyes. She thought the situation could be over, that she was safe again. She froze in place, unsure of what to do. When would she feel security again?

"Let's get you home," offered Abel in his sincerest voice.

Piper turned to check on her sister who was still asleep on the couch. She wanted to ask "What about Nat?" But the words didn't form in her throat.

"I'll look after her until she wakes up," promised Ellie.

"I'll be here too," Nick added in.

Piper wiped her tears away before they had a chance to fully form. The only response she could muster in her sleep deprived state was a nod.

Abel stopped in the doorway, turning to face Nick. "Please, don't forget what I came to you about," His coffee brown eyes pleading with the detective.

"I'll look into it," promised Nick. Piper was too tired to ask questions at the time, probably for the first time in her life.

Only Nick and Abel knew it was that Abel had come to Nick to file a missing persons.

Only Abel knew that it was because he felt like he wasn't getting making enough progress as the vigilante.

With her consent, Abel walked her home. Being walked home brought her a surprising amount of comfort, however ironic, she didn't need to know that though.

Abel had her wait outside her own home as he swept through the rooms to make sure the vigilante hadn't come back while Piper was away. He knew didn't need to do that, it was for show, to make her feel better. While Piper was alone she scanned the area in with a suspicious bias. Everyone was a threat now, anyone whose eyes lingered too long could be connected.

A shaky sigh of relief passed through her lips as she entered her own home. Abel was coming down the stairs as Piper came in the house. There was a moment where Piper had her back to the open door, the early morning sunlight painting her like an artist mad with inspiration. It was right then and there Abel could feel something creeping up on him, something that he hadn't felt since he had woken up in that damned vault. Being a trained soldier, not a poet, Abel didn't know what to call it. All he knew was it was something other than feeling alone, or angry all the time. And he would be damned if he didn't say it felt good. For just a brief moment he saw Nora in the light. The door closed behind Piper and with it Nora. She was gone, again.

"Can you sit with me?" Piper's voice carried them out of the silence. She felt odd asking what was basically a stranger to accompany her, but it was better than nothing. He complied, taking a seat next to her on her bed. "Just until I fall asleep, please?" _'Do you hear yourself? You sound so desperate'._ Her inner voice chastised herself. Though, if it bothered Abel he didn't show it.

Abel wore his stoic expression like a mask, a feat accomplished from years of experience in the Army. Behind the brick wall that was Abel Cohan were emotions that longed to get out. He wanted to tell Piper that she didn't have to worry, he was the vigilante and he was never going to let harm come to her but he would never compromise the mission, his son. She would have to find the truth out on her own, or simply wait. The conflicting emotions only steeled his resolve. Writing about the vigilante was dangerous. Whether the Commonwealth believed their gas-mask clad crusader was working in their best interest or not, no one could deny he was pissing off a lot of bad people. Her insight on the case might make it seem like she had answers and one day one of the wrong people might come knocking on Piper's door, and he couldn't allow that to happen. This was the best worst option, even if she couldn't see that.

Sometime during his brooding Piper had fallen asleep. To Abel she looked so vulnerable, fragile, but innocent. It reminded him what this crusade was for, that there were still people worth saving. Personal relationships and emotions would have to come second to the safety of the innocent. He almost felt bad leaving while she was so peacefully asleep, but not bad enough to stay.

* * *

MacCready was waiting just outside the edge of Diamond City when he met up with Abel, a green duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The sniper tossed the duffle bag in place of a greeting.

Abel quickly scooped it up, eagerly checking the contents of the bag. The assault gas mask sat atop of the rest of the 'costume'. Abel shoved the mask of the alter-ego to the bottom of the bag and zipped it up.

They left Diamond City together to head back to the Red Rocket, but there was an obvious tension in the air. Abel waited until Diamond City was far behind them before he asked his question.

"Do we have a problem, MacCready?"

He came to a full stop. "I'm all for this crusade your waging," There was a pause. He was searching for the right words to get his point across. "I actually feel like we're making a difference, and you're paying my way. If you want me to shoot a raider, just point."

Abel could feel a 'but' coming.

"But," and there it was. "Don't ask me to do that again."

"Ok."

To be honest MacCready didn't know what he was expecting but 'Ok' wasn't it. If there was any signs of anger or frustration with the sniper, he didn't show it. "Just ok?"

Abel nodded. "Just ok," MacCready looked like he was expecting to be terminated, either his employment or his life. Abel continued to put that suspicion to bed. "Like you said, this is my crusade. You are a hired gun, I won't forget what I'm paying you for if you don't." He began to walk again, with or or without the hired gun.

Feeling more at ease, MacCready went with him. "Did it work at least?"

"I don't think Piper Wright will be writing anymore, and if Nick suspected me before he shouldn't now. All we have to do is keep it public information that the vigilante works alone and he shouldn't have a reason to suspect me."

 _'Easier said than done',_ they both thought. It was a long, silent trip back. Neither of them were men of words, but of action. They were ok with that.

"I had a chance to dispose of Nick Valentine," Abel admitted when they were further enough away from Diamond City. "I opened the door he was locked behind, and on the way out he had his back turned to me. I had my weapon in hand. I could have emptied the clip in his back before he knew what hit him."

There wasn't a shadow of a doubt in his mind that Abel could have disposed of the only person who cared enough to stand in the way of the vigilante, he just wasn't sure why he was being told this. "But you didn't?" Not that MacCready disagreed with that outcome. He found that cowards tend to be the ones to shoot people in the back, literally.

"The Commonwealth needs good men like him, like you," Abel clarified. "I'm under no illusion that I'm the hero the Commonwealth wanted."

MacCready didn't completely agree or disagree with that statement either, but he didn't interrupt. It wasn't very common for Abel to initiate the conversation, MacCready didn't want to be personally responsible for him stopping either.

"I'm the one it deserves though," His tone was firm, solid like his convictions. "After this is over it can return to good men doing things, and it will need people to lead by example."

"I can drink to that," MacCready offered a sympathetic smile. He wasn't a fanatic like Abel, believing the crusade will simply fix the world but he did feel like he was making a difference and that's all that mattered to him. "If we willingly allow harm to come to innocents than all of this was for nothing."

"Exactly," Abel agreed. He took a chance on MacCready, uniting over their common dislike for the Gunners, but it seemed to an investment that paid off.

* * *

Being the gentleman that he was Nick Valentine escorted the younger Wright home when she awoke. He half expected Piper to still be crashed out in her bed, but instead he found Piper packing. Nat was just as surprised as Nick.

"Planning on taking a trip?"

"Nat and I are going to get out of here, just until I can feel safe again."

An uncomfortable pause filled the air. Nick couldn't tell if she was waiting for him to try to stop her, but he didn't even if that was what she wanted. Being a protector should come before all else. Nick was a firm believer in if innocent blood is willingly sacrificed for a goal then it wasn't a goal worth fighting for.

"Just comeback in one piece," offered Nick with a sympathetic smile. "Both of you," Much to his surprise his response warranted a hug from the reporter. Nick raised his hands to her back, as to gently pat her on the back. "Be safe out there."

Piper tightened her arms around the detective. "You do the same, ok?"

After ten minutes Nick found himself standing alone in Publick Occurrences, today's paper in hand. She fled because of the vigilante, but he wasn't naive enough to think it wasn't because of him. He brought her into the fold, this was on him. Having a friend and her sister threatened only strengthened his resolve. Nick Valentine was going to catch this guy, even if it was the last thing he ever did. The burden weigh heavy on his shoulders as he left the abandon house.

Diamond City was waking up to what was possibly Piper's last article about the vigilante on their doorsteps: **"WRATH OF THE WAR-MACHINE by PIPER WRIGHT"**

* * *

 **Author's Note: War-Machine came out way later than it meant to, but yeah. That's Abel's vigilante name. I know it already kind of belongs a Ironman knock off, but Marvel can kiss my ass (haha just kidding, please don't sue). Please, leave a review of what you thought about this chapter! Shout-out to everyone who left a review, favorited or followed! This story got so much support, and it is very appreciated. I'm sorry that it's taken a while to post these chapters. I'll try to get the ones out a little faster. Thank you for being patient. Solivore out!**


	6. Act 1 - Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Fallout 4 or it's characters. The Fallout series belongs to Bethesda. This is a nonprofit fanfiction written purely for enjoyment. Enjoy.**

 **Author's Note: I read the reviews, I'll never apologise for a Batman reference.**

* * *

 _Act I - All-American Nightmare_

 _Chapter V_

The head of each department of the Institute gathered into one room for their weekly briefing. The best and the brightest the Institute had to offer sat at one long table eager to solve whatever problems as one mind, reminiscent of the Knights of the Round Table. Father, undoubtedly their King Arthur, sat at the end of table, like a king should. His long, bony fingers absent-mindedly stroked his grey bearded mane as he listened to each directorate give a brief status update about their respective departments. When they were all finished they could move onto the topic they have been all dreading.

"Moving on the the discussion of whom the top-siders are calling the 'War-Machine"'.

Silence descended on the table like a wet blanket. Opinions were mixed on this discussion, mixing as well as oil and water. Father knew his subjects well enough to know some sort of argument was coming.

"What do we care about those knuckle-dragging, mouth-breathing savages do to each other?" One doctor asked, zero sympathy in his voice. As cold as it sounded, there were some in the Institute that shared this opinion. The Institute didn't bother with the surface if it didn't further serve their own goals, they weren't going to start now.

"It's not about what they do to each other, it's what they'll do to us," Another doctor countered.

"It's highly unlikely that this ape could connect us to what's going on," The first doctor shot back. Father only watched them bicker back and forth. Everyone in the room knew ultimately it would be his decision, so he waited for his trusted advisors to explain their points so that he could make a fair decision. "Even if he could, it's even more improbable that he could infiltrate our facility."

An awkward silence blanketed the room again, Father used this time to interject with his question.

"In your own calculations, could you say with complete certainty that our facility couldn't be compromised?"

All of the heads turned to the Acting-Director of the Synth Retention Bureau Justin Ayo, eager for his answer. Justin Ayo, much to their dismay, shook his head with a solemn glance. Father continued.

"Then it is our responsibility to take the necessary preparations to ensure we don't get caught with our proverbial pants down in our own house."

A light sparked in Madison Li's head. "Maybe that's not a bad idea," she said to herself, but all of heads in the room turned to hear her solution. "We could invite him to a nuetral spot and explain ourselves." The doctor didn't need to look at the faces of her asscioates to tell they didn't like her idea. She only looked to Father, the one in the room whose opinion mattered. Her eyes scanned his face for any sort of emotional response, but there was none. Father was good at keeping his cards close to his chest.

"You want to break bread with our enemy?" Ayo shot back.

"Potential enemy," countered Li. "He doesn't even know we exist yet."

Another department head butt in, looking for a resolution that didn't directly incorporate the Institute. "We could out him, his identity I mean. Let the savages take care of it."

Li shook her head. "Recent surveys show that the War-Machine is gaining popularity, like some kind of people's champion."

Father absorbed all the information in the room. Everyone was bringing up fair points, even if they did come from a place of fear. He understood it though, this was the first time in the Institute's long history that anyone dared challenge them, directly or indirectly. The insistent reporter had fallen to the bottom of their list of worries.

"Diplomacy?" Father asked, and when his voice was spoken all the other banter stopped. Heads eagerly turned his way in unison, looking to his experienced mind for answers they couldn't come up with on their own. "Do you think it'll work, Dr. Li?"

Li felt the blood rush to her cheeks as all the attention was placed on her, again. Father reminded her of another scientist she used to have feelings for. At least this one wasn't an alcoholic. "I spent most of my life topside," Li reminded the group. "They aren't all savages, or apes. I think it's worth a shot."

Ayo, among others, was wary of this choice. "He could be an asset to the Institute if he's properly tamed," Justin Ayo admitted.

Li attempted to shrug the responsibility off of herself, in the likely event she was wrong in her assessment. "If all else fails, we still have Kellogg."

Father didn't think it needed to come to that, or rather didn't want it to, but for the sake of the Institute he needed to keep all options open. His secret trump card was his shared DNA with the vigilante, but he wouldn't be foolish enough to risk the lives of every man, woman and baby in the Institute over this claim.

* * *

Nick Valentine thought the cesspool of a settlement known as Goodneighbor would grow on him a little each time he came, but he was painfully aware that it was just wishful thinking on his part. Residents were lighting up right in the middle of the street, regardless of who was around. No one seemed bothered by Nick being there, he was confident some people weren't even sure they saw them, or anything.

One settler stopped in front of Nick with a wide grin on his face. "Woah, I must be higher than I thought," he chuckled to himself. He leaned in uncomfortably close, further investigating Nick's appearance.

"Boo," Nick said calmly.

The settler fell onto his bottom with a thud. His initial expression resembled fear, but it melted away into amusement. "Far out man," the guy chuckled to himself as Nick walked away.

One more man stopped Nick before he could reach his required destination, this interaction wasn't as pleasant as the other. He tried to sell Nick drugs, oblivious to his current synthetic body. The detectives only response was to remove his hat so that he could clearly see Nick's features in the open light.

The dealer seemed taken back back, and then dissolved into puzzlement. "You're that synth detective I've been hearin' about, aren't ya?"

Nick wanted to roll his eyes as he placed the hat back on his head. "What a deduction, are you sure you're not the detective?"

The snarky remark was lost on the dealer. His eyes sparkled with an idea that just crossed his mind. He asked Nick to deal for him. When Nick refused he tried to explain that Nick would be the best dealer, because there wasn't a chance that he could get hooked on his own product. Looking around, Nick could tell that was an obvious problem they were having.

"Valentine," A familiar voice cut into their conversation. It belonged to none other than Hancock, the mayor of Goodneighbor.

Nick caught up with Hancock, leaving the unpleasant conversation behind him. It was the exact person, or ghoul rather, that he was looking for.

"What do I owe this pleasant visit to?" Hancock mused as they walked through the street. "Or are you here to stomp out of here again?"

"I need some information," Nick stated matter-of-fact like.

Hancock folded his arms across his chest. "And here I thought that you were here to admire my beautiful face."

Nick pressed on, ignoring the ghoul mayors sense of humor. "Any of your lot have a baby, maybe one that doesn't quite belong to them?"

A look flashed over Hancock's scarred face, one that told Nick every thing he needed to know. It was a geniune look of confusion. It wasn't necessarily a dead end, but it was only helpful in the sense that it was one less thread to pull on.

The look was all a seasoned detective needed, he turned, ready to leave when Hancock pulled him back in just as quick.

"I know a guy," The words stopped Nick Valentine dead in his tracks. Was he bluffing? What did he have to gain from lying? Maybe he was just toying with him. "But you already owe me one."

Nick arched his artificial eye brow in surprise. "For what?"

"For not telling that girlie your secret during our interview," His burned lips pursed into a smirk. Nick Valentine wasn't playing his game before, but would have to now. "She doesn't know, right?"

"No, no she doesn't." Nick planned on keeping it that way.

"It would be a shame if someone just happened to slip your girlfriend your past."

"She wouldn't believe you," Nick shook his head in response. He was only half confident.

Hancock shrugged, he was probably right. "She's a smart girl. I leave an anonymous tip, let her follow the breadcrumbs herself."

There wasn't any way of properly determining whether he was bluffing or not. If he wasn't, it still wouldn't have been the worst thing Hancock has ever done, nor the last. Nick grumbled to himself, already regretting what he was about to say.

"What do you want?"

The ghouls smirk twisted into a sick grin, followed by a hearty laugh. He had won. "That's what I want to hear."

Nick waited with an impassive face for his new set of orders, but it didn't hide the growing impatience he felt. Had it not been a baby at stake, Nick probably wouldn't have taken the bait.

* * *

The days grew longer as the Commonwealth entered the early months of summer, and with it the heat. During his interview with Piper she had asked him what he missed about the old world, to avoid talking about the loss of his wife he jokingly offered air conditioning. Days like this made it less of a joke. The best Abel could do to combat the heat was open the all the doors and windows in the Red Rocket, otherwise the truck stop became the wrong kind of hot box. Abel cursed himself under his breath for choosing this particular day to weld together parts for his power armor.

An old radio that Abel salvaged from Sanctuary Hills carried tunes from the Old World through the halls of the Red Rocket. Abel hummed softly to the music, but he didn't really know the words. Truth be told he didn't much care for the songs it played, but Nora used to like them. Abel remembered that it seemed Nora knew all the words to the songs that came over the car stereo. Sometimes Abel would turn down the volume mid song and let her angelic voice carry out the rest of the tune. It was like a private concert all for himself, Abel was selfish that way.

Thinking about Nora made him hurt in ways he never thought possible. He did his best not to think of her, however unhealthy that it was. Abel knew that it wasn't helping, only pushing the grieving process back to a later date, but feelings only got in the way of the mission. He needed a clear mind to find his son, it didn't help anybody if Abel ended up dead in a ditch before he could find Shaun because he was distracted.

Still, that didn't stop him from thinking about her from time to time. It was always the little things that got him, like seeing empty shells of the places they used to go to. Finding little trinkets on a scavenger run that she might like. Abel never really could tell when she actually liked a gift he bought for her. It was well-known that Abel didn't have the eye for gifts that other romantics had, he was like a bird bringing back shiny things he found for attention. She would smile none-the-less and put them in her little stash of gifts. This time he caught himself thinking about her more than he wanted to was about music. Her favorite sang came on, and the only thing Abel could think about was how he would never hear her voice again. He would never hear her sing, laugh, or say his name the special way only she could. Shaun would never know how her soft voice could cease the infants fussing and lull him into sleeping.

Abel stood up, tearing the welder's mask off of his face and letting it drop to the floor with a clatter. He couldn't help himself, not this time. He went to the corner of his workshop, to the picture that hung up on his wall. Abel peered at the two-hundred year old picture through blurry eyes. Footsteps around the truck stop cut his moment short. The vigilante made it appear as if he was still working on the power armor, his back to the door. He couldn't afford to show weakness, not now.

MacCready came into the workshop, Rocket in tow. "He's a good hunting dog."

Abel turned around to see that the hunting duo had completed their mission. MacCready and Rocket had set out to get a mole-rat, but came back with several. Abel kneeled so that he was at eye level with the canine. "Whose a good boy?" He asked, running his fingers through the top of the dogs fur.

Rocket shook his head at the praise, his mouth open and tongue lulling to the side.

"Have you read this yet?" MacCready picked up the newspaper article he had lifted from Piper's house when he was moonlighting as the vigilante.

"No," admitted Abel. "I've been busy with this set of power armor." Their latest raid had been more successful than the others as of late. What was supposed to be a solo recon mission ended with Abel coming back with yet another power armor frame. Secretly MacCready had been surprised that Abel came back at all after that kind of fight, but he was reminded that he was only a recent addition to the team and that Abel had been doing this for a while by himself. Abel was so secretive about his work that the sniper wondered if he preferred to work alone.

"War," MacCready began to read it off anyway. "War never changes. It's ever-evolving, expanding to consume more flesh but deep down it's still the same old War. What's happening in the Commonwealth is no different. We were all just unfortunate to get stuck in this version of the war, we are all at the mercy of the war machine."

"Is there a point to this?" Abel asked with a sigh, pulling off the top part of his vault suit, and wrapping the arms around his waist. What used to be a white undershirt clung to his body like a second skin, sweat and grime had rendered it anything but white.

"Maybe that's what we should call you," MacCready grinned. "War-Machine. I like it. It's catchy."

"I don't need a pet name," Abel scoffed. "What I do need is food. Take your catch to Sanctuary Hills, and have them turn it into a stew. Pass the extras out to the people."

 _'Such a buzzkill,'_ MacCready thought to himself. At the same time he couldn't imagine what kind of stress Abel was going under, as a vigilante and as a father. They could keep shooting until their ammo ran dry and the Commonwealth would still be populated almost exclusively by scum. Only MacCready knew that the vigilante wasn't waging a war on crime, not completely. What Abel was really doing was targeting the raider groups known for dealing in human trafficking, and slavery. Maybe after they found Shaun they could expand their crime fighting radius, but at the moment Abel had a single goal. Until then if the Commonwealth wanted to believe them to be heroes it only helped their cause.

A hungry growl in the pit of MacCready's stomach stifled the urge to poke fun at his by boss by saluting and saying 'yessir'. Instead he left their makeshift base of operations to do as he was told. Rocket following close at his heels. He wasn't following MacCready, but the promise of food.

Now alone, again, Abel returned to work on his power armor. He wasn't at work for long when he heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. Maybe MacCready had forgotten something, but he didn't want to take the chance. Abel reached for the nearest weapon and pressed himself up against the the corner of the doorway the best he could. The hiding spot wouldn't last long, but it gave Abel a drop on whoever dared to come into his truck stop. The vigilante did his best to slow his breathing, and cursed inwardly at his weapon of choice. His favored pistol sat just out of arm's reach on the weapons bench, and the walls were literally lined with various weapons that he had acquired from his numerous raids, but Abel Cohan would have to make do with a wrench. He wasn't even sure what kind of wrench it was, he had just been calling it _'Big Ass Wrench'._

The intruder had barely made it into the workshop when a figure had come out of seemingly nowhere, pinning her against the wall in one fluid movement. She could barely let out a "Fuckin' Hell," when she found her wind pipe threatening to be crushed by a cold piece of metal.

"Cait?" Abel asked in disbelief. He removed the wrench from her neck but kept the makeshift weapon in his hand at his side.

"Is this what passes as foreplay around here?" Cait teased in a rough voice, her hand touching her throat to assess the damage. No blood had been drawn, but it would definitely bruise. Cait hadn't seen that look in Abel's eyes since their brawl in the Combat Zone, it was a scary look for most people on the receiving end of it. Cait wasn't most people, though.

Abel stepped back, wrench in hand. "What are you doing here, Cait?"

If Cait had heard the question she didn't show it. Instead she simply walked past the vigilante, taking in the scenery before saying anything. Finally, she let out an impressed whistle. "Forget Santa, this is what I want for Christmas," Cait stopped in front of a power-fist, the expression on her face reminded Abel of a child in a candy shop.

"Don't touch the merchandise," Abel sidestepped in front of Cait. If Cait had broken something it wasn't like he could just go buy a new one.

"You're no fun," Cait teased. "What is it you do here?"

"How's your arm?" Abel deflected the question. Silently he had decided that she wasn't a threat. Not yet at least. To show it, he placed the big ass wrench back on the table.

The fire-haired fighter winced at the mention of her arm, unsavory memories of Abel dislocating it flood into her mind. Cait brought her hand to her left arm, only daring to let the backs of her fingers grace her skin. Hypersensitivity met with her touch, a pain laced with pleasure.

"It's healing," Cait finally managed. An awkward silence filled the air like a dense fog. The Irish fighter stepped away from the power fist, and the man guarding it. She spun slowly on her heels, taking in the scene slowly. There were enough weapons in that one room to supply a small army. It struck Cait that a small army was camped up the river, and they weren't outfitted with any of these weapons.

"Don't share well with others?" Cait mused with a chuckle.

"The Minute Men have their heart in the right place, but I can't hand out military grade weapons to those so inexperienced." There wasn't a lot of time wasted between the question and the answer, clearly he wrestled with with this question before. "If they die, their weapons will be back in the Commonwealth in the hands of raiders."

Abel returned the power-fist to it's rightful place on the wall with a sigh. He didn't want to know what kind of Hell would be released on the Commonwealth if that fiery red head was allowed to leave with that power fist. When Abel turned around he found his gaze matched by her piercing eyes.

In her hand was the gas mask Abel used to conceal his identity, when he was someone else. "So, why do you do this?" Cait held the gas mask up to Abel. Even he knew she had a point. It didn't offer any particular defense bonuses like a helmet, and it wasn't like there were laws about killing, not anymore.

Abel snatched the gas mask away from the redhead. His fingers gently caressed the green fabric as if it were a holy object. "It's a fear tactic. I can't be everywhere at once, but if nobody knows who the man in the mask is, he can be anyone." He placed the mask back down on the table, out of her reach. "Or anywhere."

"No I mean," Cait crossed her arms across her chest, trying to reword the question in her head. She had always been better with her fists than with words. "Why do this at all?"

"To find my son," Abel responded simply.

"No," She almost growled. She didn't like to have to repeat herself, and this was almost the third time. "You would have an easier time operating in the Commonwealth if you weren't killing everyone in it."

There wasn't a time Abel thought he would agree with a brute like Cait, but she was right. Abel could operate almost entirely undetected if he chose not to murder those he came across. The thought had crossed his mind before. Even being what they were calling the War-Machine wasn't necessary to intelligence gathering.

"I swore an oath," Abel finally said after a moment of thought. "To protect this country from threats foreign, or domestic." The truth was that finding Shaun was only the first step. After Abel found his son the Commonwealth was still somewhere they had to live in.

Cait chuckled to herself. Abel waited for her to explain what she found so funny, but an explanation never came. Words like "oath" or "promises" were outdated to Cait, they were almost like foreign words in her mouth.

"No," She shook her head. "I think there's something else, something more."

"Like what?"

"I think," Cait took a step towards Abel, peering into his eyes one more time for confirmation before offering her theory. "I think you like the fighting, the killing."

Silence filled the air like a thick fog as Abel reflected on the potential truth that was just presented to him. This wasn't a life altering revelation, but a fear embedded into the back of his mind since his first tour. More accurately it was a darkness that lingered in the back of his mind, threatening to invade even his most private thoughts. It robbed Abel of the simplest pleasures, like being home. During the entire tour he wanted nothing more than to come home, to see his beloved Nora, but when he finally made it state side Abel found that home felt foreign. When Abel returned stateside he found that nobody really talked about the war, like it wasn't happening. It disgusted him. Not even Nora knew Abel counted down the days until his next deployment, but deep down she must have known.

Even Shaun's birth was a bittersweet moment. How could something so innocent, so pure, rest in the hands of a seasoned killer? Nora wanted to name Shaun 'Abel Jr' but after a shocking push back and an unexpected outburst, they decided to name him after her grandfather. The original Shaun was a professor in the Boston Institute of Technology, a kind man with a generous soul. He wanted nothing more than to look after his family, with a passion for science, knowledge and the truth. Shaun passed before he could witness the birth of his namesake.

"I was in the Army before this," Abel admitted. He didn't realize that he was talking, but he found that he couldn't stop the words from spilling out. "I'm a warrior, and I come from a line of warriors. My father served in the Army, just like his father and the father before him. I knew from a young age that I would serve, my father trained me for it. We were like spartans."

"This army of yours teach you to string people up by meat hooks?" Cait mused with a playful grin. "Or to carve them up piece by piece until they give your lad up?"

"No," Abel admitted. "That's all me."

Cait searched his jade green eyes yet again, looking for any trace of the fighter that longed for the thrill of battle but she didn't find it. Instead, all she was a broken, conflicted man staring back at her. It was almost like he was two different people; One who thrived in the heat of battle, and the second was a man chained by the guilt of what he had done. To Cait it was an all too familiar feeling, like an anchor that was wrapped around your ankle, dragging you further down to the bottom of an ocean of your own sorrow. Fortunately, Cait had cut that chain a long time ago. She stepped towards the copper haired man, her steps slow and deliberate.

"Sounds like your at war with yourself," The fire-haired lady spoke in a low tone, deliberately to get him to lean in closer to hear her. Her words rang true, like they had come from experience. "I know you're new in the Commonwealth, so let me give you one free tip of advice, for savin' my life and all: The Age of Heroes is over. Don't be the hero everyone wants, but the monster everyone is afraid of."

Before Abel knew it he found her hand on the back of his head, pulling him in closer until her mouth whispering into his ear. "Give into your inner desires," Her words soft and warm, melting into his ear.

In the heat of the moment the pair found themselves entangled in deep kiss. The moment could have lasted forever, stretching into infinity if Abel hadn't pushed her away. As a reaction he put Cait at an arms length distance, but mentally they were miles apart.

"I can't," Abel finally managed, catching his breath.

It was her first instinct to ask him if he were gay, not that anything was wrong with that, but Cait was fully aware of his deceased wife resting peacefully in the vault.

"Is it her?" She said instead.

"I can't be distracted," Abel said firmly, quickly distancing himself from the situation. He took a step back, away from Cait. "Not until I find Shaun." Nora was part of it, too. The wound was still too fresh in his mind. It was too soon to even begin thinking of moving on.

"That's what I am?" Cait's voice was almost a low growl. "A distraction? Don't go making a thing out of this," She folded her arms across her chest with an angry 'humph'. "I was just trying to say thank you."

Abel wasn't sure what to say, he remained silent.

"At least it's a better reason that holding out for that prude in Diamond City."

Abel was just as shocked as he was when he she kissed him. She must have saw it on his face because she continued.

"Don't play dumb, Mac told me all about that lass you're trying so hard to save in Diamond City. You don't do that unless you want to get your dick wet, or unless your head over heels and I don't smell girly perfume on you."

"What?" He shot back defensively. "It's not like that. I'm not in love, I just didn't want someone to come knocking at her door looking for answers about me or what I do." Abel thought that much was clear. He made a mental note to talk to MacCready later. "The Wrights are innocent, you want to protect that for as long as you can or I have to ask myself 'Why am I even doing this'?"

Cait rolled her eyes in response. Clearly she wasn't buying what he was selling. To her it sounded like he was whipped already. Though, he wasn't lying. Since his two-hundred year old nap he hasn't come across anyone particularly innocent. The Wrights, like Shaun, had become the personification of innocents in his book. Maybe it was just some need to justify the dark things he had done while operating in the Commonwealth, but that wasn't going to stop him from trying to do anything he could to protect the innocent.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of a jet engine nearing his makeshift base of operations.

 _'Saved by the bell,'_ Abel thought to himself.

"The Hell is that?" A wild-eyed Cait asked. It was growing louder, and closer. The tools and weapons in the workshop rattled on the wall. It was even more unnerving seeing that it didn't phase Abel.

"I, uh, kind of have been doing side work for the Brotherhood of Steel." Abel shrugged nonchalant.

"You what?" She growled. Cait openly hated authoritative types, and the Brotherhood were the physical manifestation of that hatred.

Abel shrugged again, unsure of why he found himself trying to justify his actions to a woman he barely knew. "MacCready and I ran into them holed up in a police station about a week or two ago. I've been clearing hot spots for them, and they've been trying to find the man that killed my wife." He reached for a laser rifle that a paladin gave him off the wall, and started to head for the door.

"And if they're lying to you?" Her words stopped him in the door way.

His answer was smooth, and callous. Like he had rehearsed it before. "Then I'll kill them. Don't touch my shit while I'm gone, I'm serious." With that as their final parting words, Abel went out to greet the descending vertibird. Something about that threat made Cait feel like she wouldn't want to find out about the or else part.

Cait watched as Abel boarded the vertibird with nothing but a dufflebag, and a laser rifle.

The words just prior to their embrace echoed in his head. Maybe there was some truth to her words, maybe.

* * *

Goodneighbor proved to be to the ever growing cesspool Nick Valentine had always thought that it was. In exchange for an in with Hancock's 'inside guy', Hancock sent him a wild goose chase. The ghoul mayor 'hired' the detective to look for his lost shipment of drugs. His reluctancy to complete his task didn't actually get in the way of solving the mystery. Actually, it wasn't even really a mystery. Nick started with those closest to Hancock and worked his way down the chain. Nick didn't need to go any further.

The shipment was stolen by one of Hancock's own guards. The drugs had never left Goodneighbor, Nick followed the trail to what was thought to be an abandoned apartment complex.

 _'No honor among thieves, eh?'_ Nick thought to himself as he pushed the door open. As a trained detective he expected the culprit to be on the other side of the door, what he wasn't expecting was for his culprit to be tied to a chair, waiting for him.

"Ah, took you long enough." A familiar voice boomed. The synth pushed open the door to reveal Hancock sitting at a chair opposite of the accused, not tied up of course. Instead it looked like he was playing cards while his armed guards stood near the doors. "Come on in, don't forget to kick off your shoes at the door." Hancock greeted.

Nick's mind immediately went to trying to solve this puzzle. "What is this? Was this just some eleberate prank?"

Hancock put up a face of mock-sadness. "Prank? No, no. See, I've known that Jimmy has been stealing from me for a while. I thought it was just for personal use, I let my people share a little of the success. Keeps the morale up". His radiated chapped lips curled into a toothy smile. "I already solved this mystery. I just wanted to see if you'd do something you didn't want to do, for me."

If Nick was still human, about now would be when he started to feel disgust. Anger. Regret. Hancock had just wasted two hours of his time. "Why?"

Hancock shrugged, the grin still plastered on his face. "Because I can? Come on, don't be a Debbie Downer. I wanted to see how serious you were."

"I don't joke about missing children." He replied sternly.

"I know that now," Hancock turned to the table, writing something down on a piece of paper. When he was done he extended it to the synth.

"What is this?" Nick cautiously reached out for it.

"Where you can meet him, and what to say."

Nick had half a mind to tear it the chicken scratch of directions, he still felt like he was being played. "My geiger counter is in the shop? What is this?"

Hancock shook his head defensively. "I know what this looks like, but he's a very paranoid individual. If you say the wrong thing you might spook him."

On the paper was the time, and place he was supposed to meet this informant. It also included what to say. Nick still wasn't sure, but it was his only lead.

"You better not be lying to me," Nick warned.

Fahrenheit stepped forward in Hancock's defense. "Or what?"

Hancock held his hand up in protest, attempting to diffuse the situation. "I swear it's the truth, on old times sake." Something about the way he said it lead Nick to believe he was telling the truth. His answer seemed geniune, and not sarcastic. Probably for the first time in the ghouls life.

"You trust this guy?" Nick asked.

"Hell no," Hancock said truthfully. "Hell, we don't even like each other. But he stays out of my operations, and he's well informed."

Paper in hand, Nick turned to the doorway to get ready for the meeting with this mystery man. An infant's life could be riding on this very meeting.

* * *

"V.I.P. is secure," The Brotherhood pilot said over the comms as the vertibird ascended into the dark Boston sky. To whom he was talking to, Abel would just have to guess. He didn't have a headset.

"Way to make a guy feel special," Abel joked uneasily, turning to Paladin Danse. Heights had always made him uncomfortable. It wasn't so much a fear, as just a mild nuisance. The paladin didn't reply.

Abel opened the dufflebag at his feet, checking half absent-mindedly to make sure he brought his personal was in tact.

Danse looked over his shoulder, peering into the dufflebag. "You won't be needing that where we're going."

"Where are we going?" The vigilante closed the bag. The War-Machine identity was meant to be his burden to bear, alone, but the list of people who knew his secret identity was ever growing. He was geniunely surprised he hadn't been outed, yet.

The paladin shifted in his seat. He had originally planned on keeping it a surprise, but Danse figured he could tell him now. "The Prydwen has cleared you to board," It wasn't an easy sell, but Danse was one of the top officers under Maxson's command.

"Does this mean you found my son?" Abel could barely contain his excitement.

Paladin Danse shook his head with a grim look on his face. "No," He admitted. It wasn't his intention to get the man's hopes up. "We think we've come across some information that might lead us on the right path, but Elder Maxson wants to be the one to brief you."

Abel sat back in his seat, closing his eyes as he collected himself. It wasn't the news he was expecting, but it was better than nothing. War-Machine was a persona he created to operate in the Commonwealth to gather Intel on his son, but he wasn't getting anywhere with it. Now the Brotherhood of Steel thinks they might be able to locate Shaun? Abel would drop the dufflebag out of the vertibird right then and there, and sign up with them if it meant getting them back. Nothing, or no one would stand in the way of finding his son. Now he was one step closer.

* * *

Cait didn't leave immediately. A small voice in the back of her head instructed her that she should've left right after Abel, but she stopped listening to that nagging voice a long time ago. She lingered in the workshop, taking it all in now that Abel wasn't here to nag her. Didn't he know all the cool kids shared their toys? The workshop had basically evolved into an armory, but she figured it was more of a trophy room.

"If this is what you have on display," Cait muttered under her breath. "What do you have hidden away?" The fiery fighter started to look around the workshop, looking for anywhere the vigilante could have hidden anything of value. She would put it back of course, Cait was just curious. Or, that's what she told herself at least.

It wasn't long into searching that Cait found his information board. The board itself wasn't well hidden, just stuffed behind the workbench against the wall. Cait pulled it off the wall, and started to read it. Her mind went into overtime trying to come to decipher what was in front of her eyes. Names were crossed out, and circled. Cait wasn't completely sure what either of them meant. Some names were familiar, some she had only heard in passing. The only thing all names had in common is they probably met with an unfortunate ending, one way or another. As her emerald green eyes drifted towards the most recent names, she found the names were beginning to sound more familiar. It took her a full moment to realize that's because she was reading the names of where the Combat Zone was. Across where it was on the map was a "CLEAR". Cait searched frantically for the only name that really mattered. A shocked Cait could only hold the board, her mind running rampant with the possibilities that lay before her. She wasn't getting anywhere with her mind in a panic, she would have to check and see for herself.

* * *

 **Author's Note: First off, I'd like to apologise for the late updates. I just recently started a new job. The hours are long and the work is hard, but I will try to keep up with the updates.** **The amount of favorites, followers and reviews are outstanding. I never thought it would get the attention that it did, and I can't thank everyone enough for it. It's honestly what keeps me going sometimes.** **I have been reading the reviews, and I tried to address them. Piper wasn't meant to be the love interest that it came off as. She was the only one that I could think of that was really just a good character so she became the personification of the innocence that was thought to be lost in this post apocalyptic world. I will never apologise for a Batman reference, it actually made me want to put other comic book references in. I might in the future, I like references if you couldn't tell. The War-Machine was meant to be his name, but indirectly kind of as a joke. I hope I explained everything better in this chapter, and I keep these things in mind moving forward. It also came to my attention that I haven't been managing the time very well, so I hope to do better next time.** **I realise my work has been sloppy lately, so if anyone would like to help me tidy up, I wouldn't be offended. I hope the next update won't take as long, and thank everyone so much for being patient.**


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